Sleeping Habits
by ketchupblood
Summary: Tezuka finds it very hard to sleep when Fuji decides that Tezuka's bed is as good as his own. [Tezuka x Fuji]


I just realized anon reviews weren't enabled, so of course, I have to post a new fic. -nodnod-

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When Fuji had first climbed into bed with Tezuka when they had first roomed together in university, a blizzard had been raging outside. Tezuka, who had buried himself under a veritable pile of blankets, had started when Fuji lifted the blankets up and climbed in.

"What...?" He had asked, part of him completely asleep and another part shocked awake by the cold air that had come in with Fuji.

"Just tonight, okay?" There was an uncharacteristic tremble in Fuji's voice as he tucked the blankets back around them and curled up in the tiny twin bed that caught Tezuka off guard, and he agreed.

Tezuka had spent the rest of the night trying not to think the thoughts that he was thinking while Fuji snuggled into his side, the narrow bed forcing them into some form of physical contact that was pure torture, especially since Tezuka couldn't have _more_.

-x-

Tezuka went through the next day in a half conscious state that was entirely unlike him, though few people seemed to notice. He knew that _he_ would notice later, though, when he tried to study from notes that he had not taken or tried to remember the assignments that he had not written down. Fuji, he noticed, was more alert than ever. He wondered how Fuji could have slept at all last night. The bed was cramped even when he had it to himself; sharing it couldn't have been much more comfortable for Fuji than it had been for him, though he supposed Fuji hadn't felt any incessant need to practically _rape_ his bedmate last night.

Therefore, it was a bit of an understatement to say that Tezuka looked forward to getting home and collapsing. However, he had to finish a few things for the tennis club—he was vice-captain that year—and then something inside of him refused to rest until he had finished the work that he remembered. So by the time he got to bed, it was well past dark and, lo and behold, there was Fuji. In his bed. Again.

"Sorry Tezuka..." Fuji propped himself up drowsily. "I don't really want to be alone right now. Can I...?"

Tezuka, for all that he wanted to refuse because even he, or perhaps especially he, needed his sleep, agreed immediately. Then he wondered when he would build any sort of resistance against Fuji's requests, but decided not to wonder about that overly much. After all, he should be able to sleep, tired as he was, with or without Fuji right next to him.

And he was right, in a way. He did fall asleep, but he woke up later to find that his arms were firmly wrapped around Fuji and Fuji had somehow twisted so that Tezuka was between his legs, which was bad enough, but Fuji had also managed to place his hand on Tezuka's thigh.

Tezuka immediately disengaged himself from Fuji and got out of the bed. Fuji almost immediately sat up groggily and looked at him and then at the clock. "Tezuka?" He asked.

"It's nothing. Why don't you go back to bed?" Tezuka said.

Fuji had looked at him a little longer and Tezuka had avoided his eyes. Then Fuji had followed him out of bed and smiled, a little more tiredly than normal, and said, "I can sleep in my own room, then."

Which made Tezuka wonder why exactly Fuji wanted to sleep next to him in the first place.

-x-

Tezuka didn't normally care about the habits of his peers. After all, it was none of his business and, he felt, it would be rude to dig into something that did not involve him at all. However, Fuji's habits seemed to always affect Tezuka, at least the ones that Tezuka noticed. So Tezuka soon learned, through a particularly hard winter, that Fuji disliked sleeping alone in a room during snowstorms.

Because it was so out of character for Fuji to be actually scared by anything and because it was _his_ sleeping patterns that were being trampled over, Tezuka had been inclined one day after a particularly incessant string of night time snow storms to ask why.

Fuji had turned over and looked at him for a moment. Tezuka no longer got out of bed first thing in the morning; apparently exposure brought a level of tolerance, even for something like Fuji's pheromones. Tezuka also found that when he didn't get up, Fuji didn't get up either, and it wasn't nearly as annoying as it might have been. Finally, Fuji answered, "It's just a bad memory."

And that finished it, because even if Tezuka was deathly curious now, something he had never been before, Fuji had clearly not wanted to talk about it and Tezuka was far too polite to push for more. So he just accepted it as one of Fuji's little quirks and they moved on from there.

-x-

The first time they slept together in the not so innocent sense was in Fuji's room. Fuji had taken Tezuka's Japanese-English dictionary, which Tezuka had actually needed that day, so Tezuka had gone into Fuji's room to retrieve it. Unfortunately or, rather, fortunately, Tezuka had not knocked and had just let himself in only to be greeted by the sight of Fuji on his bed with the zippers on his jeans undone and his boxers pushed aside to let his erection out and his right hand caressing himself while his left covered his mouth. His eyes were wide, shocked to have been caught or shocked that Tezuka would actually enter without knocking, Tezuka didn't know. All he knew was that Fuji was still playing with himself and hadn't protested when Tezuka let his left hand join with Fuji's right or when Tezuka's mouth took over for Fuji's left hand in muffling any sounds that might have escaped.

That night had become a blur in Tezuka's mind. It was never particularly clear to begin with, of course, for he had been far too caught up in the moment to engrave every detail to memory. He remembered that sometime after he had taken over stroking Fuji, Fuji had taken the liberty of releasing _his_ throbbing flesh and, in typical Fuji fashion, had teased until he could take it no longer and had come in an explosion of pure, mind numbing pleasure. Fuji must have followed soon, though he couldn't remember it, because they had slept on Fuji's bed that night, both of them a little too sticky to be entirely comfortable but too comfortable there to leave.

When Tezuka woke up with Fuji in his arms the next morning, he hadn't moved and when Fuji had woken not to Tezuka getting up but to Tezuka shifting his body a little, he had smiled, sincerely smiled.

-x-

Fuji doesn't only climb into bed with Tezuka when it snows anymore; he just goes when he feels like being with Tezuka or when he doesn't want to be alone, or even when he's just tired of waking up to the same scene every day. Tezuka, who had realized almost a full year after Fuji had started treating Tezuka's room as his own that it couldn't go on like it was, had bought a larger bed and, while he still occasionally struggles with keeping his urges under control, they no longer have to fit two fully grown men onto a tiny twin bed. And in those instances when he can't control himself, Fuji never seems to object.

They don't do it often, though. They both know that the line between 'enough' and 'too much' is a thin one and that tolerances to pleasure can be built up much easier than tolerances to pain. Often when Fuji crashes into Tezuka's nights, they don't touch at all. Sometimes they don't even talk, because neither of them are in the mood.

Sometimes Tezuka wonders what they are and he wonders if Fuji ever wonders about it as well. Tezuka knows that Fuji is his everything, the one unknown in a perfectly balanced equation. He does not know that he is the one control in Fuji's chaotic existence, and he is not likely to know, for neither of them are much inclined to sharing their innermost thoughts with anyone, even or perhaps especially each other.

There are even times when he doubts what he wants, doubts that he is happy like this. His parents do not know and Tezuka is unused to and discontent with keeping secrets from them. They are asking him to get married now and to give them a grandchild or two. His mother in particular cannot wait to have a baby to play with again and Tezuka wonders how he turned out as he did when she must have raised him to do whatever he wanted. He decides that it must be his father, who had been a disciplinarian in the strictest of terms. His father had been the one who had taught him how to eat only those things that were good for him, how to work out daily to keep in shape, how work hard at his studies and at everything else. His mother had smiled and assured him that she would make sure little Kunimitsu finished his homework and, as soon as he had left for work, she had taken Tezuka to the amusement park.

Sometimes Tezuka wants to let her take another child to the amusement park, no doubt against his own wishes. Those times are few and in between, though, because somehow Fuji always manages to figure out when he's thinking those things. Then Fuji would quietly slip beside him on the couch or at the table or in bed and wordlessly take one of Tezuka's hands in his own and interlace their fingers. Then Tezuka knew. This is all he would ever want.


End file.
